


It's dangerous to dilute my caffeine stream.

by mimosa (Error305_Proxy)



Series: I've measured out my life with coffee spoons [2]
Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:55:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Error305_Proxy/pseuds/mimosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Q still owns the coffee shop across the street from MI6, and James is being Bond. (Semi-AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There are habits that James has picked up from a lifetime of being alone and constantly fearing for his life. These are things that are not easily shaken, and as much as Q tries to understand that and give him the space that he needs, it becomes difficult in living with the agent soon after they move in together.

After the third time when Q wakes up in the middle of night with a knife across his throat and a half-asleep agent straddling him, he resists all attempts of the agent pulling him into a hug and stalks off to sleep on the couch in James’s flat.

He doesn’t sleep anymore that night even though he tries to convince himself that his body needs a certain number of hours of sleep to function and he has not reached those hours yet.

Instead he curls up on the couch and thinks about all the ways that his life could be normal. He knows for a fact that James isn’t asleep either. James turns in his sleep, he is rarely still, and the simple fact that Q cannot hear any noise from the bedroom backs up Q’s assumption that James is awake.

To the agent’s credit, he waits until it’s 7am before venturing out of the bedroom. By then Q has fixed them both breakfast and is reading the news online.

“Did I hurt you?” James asks even though he knows he didn’t. He may not always be fully aware of his actions, but he knows his strength well enough to know what would cause injury.

“No.” Q says simply, he doesn’t look up from his laptop and is trying to concentrate on the news article in front of him telling him that some celebrity couple has broken up and are now trashing each other publically.

“I didn’t mean to do it.” James says, and sounds as apologetic as one could sound without actually apologizing. “It’s just a reflex.”

“I know.” Q says simply. He doesn’t blame James, he really doesn’t. If anything he’s glad that James has enough survival instincts that Q won’t have to worry about him too much. It’s not that he doesn’t trust the agent, or that he doesn’t (perhaps against his better judgement) love the agent. It’s just the experience of waking up to your boyfriend (Q tried to find another word for what they are, but couldn’t) on the verge of killing you is never enjoyable, and Q needs some time to recover.

They continue their breakfast (James is eating, Q is ignoring his food in favor of reading the latest book review on George Saunders) in silence until Q notices the time and has to go into the café.

He’s pushed back the opening hours of the café, and has heard endless complaints from the staff at MI6, but he’s made it clear that it’s either opening late or not opening at all, and the complaints promptly ceased.

He likes spending time with James in the mornings. They’re usually quiet, because despite appearances James is not a morning person, and Q is perfectly happy with a quiet morning before he has to be ready for the bustle of the café.

Sometimes Q feels like they’re an old couple nearing their 80s. But other times he wakes up with a knife against his throat, so he rethinks his evaluation of them as a couple.

James goes with him to the café. Q is not quite sadistic enough to prefer the tube to a ride from James, so they arrive together. James sits at his usual table (unless it’s a morning that he has to go into MI6) and Q goes into the kitchen to prep for the day.

They are an old couple. There’s no going around it. When they are together they are an old couple, aside from the random bursts of craziness that comes from service as a secret agent, they are an old, boring couple.

Q is perfectly happy with this, if only because he knows that James is perfectly happy with it.

Plus the sex is great, so Q doesn’t complain.

As he starts chopping away the day’s fresh tomatoes, Q starts formulating a way of dealing with this craziness that James has brought into his life.

And a way of falling asleep with his boyfriend so he doesn’t have to wake up to a knife in his face.


	2. We’ll talk later

Q emails off his latest piece of writing to a friend who happens to be a publisher. He hears back in less than two hours, his friend says it’ll be pitched, and tells Q to keep editing the piece. It’s the first time Q has heard positive feedback on his writing from anyone in the industry.

So when Q gets the call the next afternoon, he drops the knife he’s holding.

They’re publishing his novel.

“They loved your writing. I mean, they always have, of course.” His friend’s voice sounds distant on the phone because Q can no longer focus on anything except the immense sense of relief that’s washing over him. “But the plot of this one. I mean, it’s just so gripping. Everyone loved it. And it has real potential to turn into a series, you know? They love it.”

“Thanks.” Q manages to croak out.

“Anyway, they want to publish it under the name Q, is that alright with you?” His friend is talking a mile minute and Q barely has any time to think at all, “They think it’ll add to the whole package of the theme.”

“Sure.” Q isn’t sure what he’s agreeing to exactly, but he knows it’s getting published.

“Great, so contact your agent, or your lawyer, and let’s set up a meeting some time next week to talk about the contract.”

“Ok.” Q doesn’t mention that he doesn’t have an agent or a lawyer. He thinks he can probably find one in a relatively short period of time.

“Great mate, I’ll see you soon.” His friend says, “And hey, didn’t I tell you you’ll get published eventually?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Q says mindlessly and hangs up. He stares at his cellphone for a bit before hitting speed dial.

“Bond.” The voice that answers is all honey, “What can I do for you?”

“Are you busy?” Q asks even though he knows James isn’t.

“Not particularly.” Comes the answer laced with curiosity, “What is it?”

“I…” Q starts and isn’t sure how he wants to frame the information, “So, something happened.”

“Mhm?” Q hears something shifting in the background, and wonders just where James is. He knows the agent is supposed to be at a briefing earlier in the day.

“You know that I’m a writer.” Q finally says, because he thinks it’s probably best to start and he’s not sure that everything will stay the same after this conversation and he’s apprehensive.

“I do.” There’s more shifting on the other end of the line, “What’s happening. You sound nervous.”

Q knows what James sounds like when he’s worried, and James sounds worried right now.

“I wrote a novel recently.” Q says, “During some of my off time.”

“I’d love to read it.” Jmes says like a dutiful boyfriend should. Though of course Q can tell he’s being genuine.

“It’s getting published.” Q says, and takes a bit pause, one of those where you just know something bad is coming up.

“Congratulations.” James says, but Q senses the hint of confusion in the agent’s voice.

“It’s based on a real story.” Q blurts out, “I mean, it doesn’t say that on the cover or anything. But it is.”

“What’s it about?” Q can tell that James sounds a little alarmed, and is no longer asking just for the sake of satisfying his curiosity.

“Espionage.” Q admits, and waits with baited breathe for the response from the other end of the line.

“Espionage.” James repeats duly.

“It’s a spy novel.” Q shurts his eyes and bites his bottom lip. He allows himself to show all the signs of nervousness since he’s in the privacy of his kitchen.

“Send it to me.” James growls.

“It’s not a …” Q trails off and runs a hand through his hair, “I won’t publish it if you don’t think - ”

“You’ve shown it to other people. You’ve shown confidential information to other people.” James cuts Q off, and that’s how he know James is truly angry, because the agent is nothing if not a gentleman, and rarely ever cuts anyone off, “It’s classified information Q, these are matters of national security.”

“Yes, but - ”

“And you get mad at me because I don’t tell you everything about my missions. What? Do you think that if I talked about things I’ll stop waking up in the middle of the night thinking I’m about to be attacked?”James very rarely goes off on rants like he’s doing now, and Q would be growing worried if he weren’t getting angry that James is not even making an effort to let him explain himself.

“James, listen to me - ” Q starts but is once again cut off by an irate agent.

“No, you listen. Maybe you don’t understand the severity of the situation. But this is treason. Don’t talk to me about trust and trusting you when you’re just using me to get your writings published.” Q has never, not since he’s known the man, heard James sound so angry, “This is ridiculous. I hope you know that I’m not going to be covering for you on this. My loyalties lie with the Queen and Country first and foremost.”

“Of course it does.” Q doesn’t mean to make the quip. He honestly doesn’t. But he’s angry at himself and angry at his boyfriend and he’s tired and just went through an emotional roller-coaster so his tongue slips and he says it anyway.

“Send me what you wrote. I have to go. We’ll talk later.” James hangs up without waiting for Q’s reply. The young man doesn’t miss the way the agent said they’d talk later instead of the usual “I’ll talk to you when I get back”, or “We’ll talk soon”.

Q throws his phone away with such force that it shatters upon impact with the kitchen wall.


	3. Whatever keeps you with me

Q doesn’t send James his typed up version of the manuscript. He shuts the café down early and goes home. He curls up on the couch and eats ice cream straight from the carton.

James comes back at 9 just as the re-run of Yes Minister is finishing, Q doesn’t look away from the TV screen.

“I asked you to send me your writing.” James says. Q hears him moving around, taking off his jacket and loosening his tie.

Q reaches for the stack of hand-written manuscript on the coffee table and flings it across the room to where he thinks James is. It falls on the floor with a thud.

“Really, is this how we’re going to handle this?” James murmurs, and Q chooses to ignore him. Vaguely he hears the sound of pages flipping that indicates something is being read.

“I’ve never been to Rwanda on a mission.” James says and walks closer to the couch, “This isn’t…this isn’t from MI6.”

“It’s from the MI6 files in the 40s. They’ve been released as a part of the Freedom for Information Act.” Q scraps the bottom of the carton for the last bite of ice cream. He’s finished a whole pint in the evening, and doesn’t really want to think about just how many calories that is. “I had to fill out some forms to access it, but apparently it’s just public information if you put in the time to request it.”

“I thought you would write about me.” James says and sits down on the couch beside Q.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Q rolls his eyes and puts down his spoon.

“You’re angry with me.” James puts the stack of manuscript on to the coffee table, there is now looking at Q intently. Q, on the other hand, is staring at the TV as if his life depended on it.

“I am.” Q says with a purse of his lips.

“I…” James sighs in frustration, “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

Q reaches out and flips through the channel, he stops when a re-run of Friends is on TV. Ironically, it’s the episode where they’re all in London for a wedding. Q tries to recall of their names, and remembers a time back in his life when he enjoyed sitcoms.

“Would it help if I said I got you flowers?” James reaches out and puts a hand hesitantly on Q’s ankle.

“Did you?” Q is stubbornly looking at the television. He pretends his heart doesn’t soften at the prospect of James having bought him flowers without reading his novel.

“I picked up roses on the way back.” James says. “I left them in the kitchen when you threw a giant stack of paper at me.”

If Q didn’t know better he’d say James is whining.

“It’s not just a giant stack of paper.” Q scoffs, “And what were you going to do if I had written about you in Rome? Or in Spain?”

“I would have apologized for yelling over the phone and told you that you can’t publish it.” James sighs, “I wasn’t…I didn’t mean to doubt you.”

“You did.” Q finally turns to James, “All this time you were just waiting for me to betray you somehow because you don’t really trust me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you.” James start and pauses, then starts again, “Look, when I was coming back tonight I had a whole speech ready about how I don’t care if you are using me for stories and I don’t care if you want to keep using me. I’m fine with it as long as I get to keep being with you.”

“Even if I’m just using you?” Q raises an eyebrow.

“Even if.” James says and raises his hand to caress Q’s cheek.

“You’re an idiot then.” Q scoffs and pushes James’s hand away, “And I hope you don’t think flowers are going to fix this mess.”

“I got us reservations tomorrow at Nobu.” James tries with a note of hopefulness. It appears that the fact Q is acknowledging him is an encouragement.

“You can’t just take me out and expect this to go away James.” Q looks at the agent with sad eyes, “Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture.”

“I know.” James pulls Q into a hug and lets out a sigh of relief when the young man doesn’t pull away or tense, “But I thought it’d be a good start.”

“We have a lot of issues to work through, no?” Q sighs and presses a kiss on the corner of James’s mouth.

“We do, yes.” James returns the kiss with full force, “But I can keep trying. I promise.”

“You’ll keep trying?” Q squeezes James’s upper arm.

“I promise. I will keep trying, if you’ll keep letting me.” James breathes in deeply, like he’s preparing to line up a kill shot, “Whatever keeps you with me.”

“Idiot.” Q whispers before pulling James into a kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

The fact that they have reservations at Q’s favorite restaurant doesn’t change the fact that James is a secret agent and has to prevent terrorists from blowing up the world. So they don’t end up going to Nobu, instead Q is once again curled up on his couch, with his laptop on hand and monitoring his boyfriend as the secret agent makes his way through an Indian bazaar.

Q thinks there are probably better ways to spend a Friday night, but it’s not so bad.

“There’s an old man selling dogs on the street.” James says, his voice coming through along with the bustling noises of a busy marketplace. Q has quietly hacked the communication system of MI6 so that he can hear what they are hearing. It’s strange, because Q knows James is talking to him, but he can’t respond and there are probably a dozen officers at MI6 who are confused out of their minds.

“I’ve been thinking of maybe getting a pet.” James says, Q doesn’t hear what the other end of the conversation is like, but there’s a pause before James speaks again. “I’m sure I can find someone to take care of it for a couple of days when I’m gone.”

“A dog. I’ve got cat allergies.” James says, and Q knows it’s crap because James is only allergic to penicillin and Q’s the one that has cat allergies.

“I hardly think cat allergies are relevant as a part of my medical history.” James growls, and Q types a couple of lines on his computer and a fire alarm goes off near where James is. The commotion that causes gives James the edge he needs to duck into a relatively quiet alley and shake off the people chasing him.

“Well that was luck.” James quips as he moves quickly through the alley to the rendezvous point where a rather conspicuous Hummer is waiting for him.

“Have I mentioned I hate working with Americans?” Q can practically see James rolling his eyes as he says this, “No respect for modesty.”

  
“Yes, I’ll play nice. Don’t worry.” There’s a hint of a smirk in James’s voice, “It’s done. I’ll be home in 13 hours.”

Q turns off his laptop after James signs off. The return journey of any given mission is never interesting enough to keep his attention. He gets a text a couple of minutes later from James’s secure line that says, “Go to sleep”.

Q does just that. He sleeps on the couch when James isn’t home because it’s almost too much to sleep in the big bed without his boyfriend. The bed smells like James and is only ever comfortable when Q is tucked into James’s arms. Without the agent it’s too big and too cold and too empty. So Q takes James’s pillow (because it’s more comfortable than his, not because of any sentimental reasons) and sleeps on the couch.

He wakes up and skips breakfast, goes to the café, opens, and starts preparing himself for the lunch rush.

His mind is on what him and James are going to do later in the evening (because when James misses a reservation he always makes up with a even more lavish one) when there’s a flash of light that alerts him someone has entered the café.

He’s on his way out to greet the new customer when he notices a couple of things that are wrong.

For starters, none of the people who were previously drinking coffee and eating scones are in the café anymore. Secondly, there are men pointing guns at him.

“Hello, Q. We’ve been tracking you for a while now.” The voice behind the ski mask has a vaguely familiar accent to it, but Q can’t quite place where he knows the man from.

“You know this is across the street from MI6, right? Somebody is going to come over and investigate if you shoot.” Q says, he wills his voice not to shake but notices that he fails.

“That’s the whole point of this exercise, my boy.” The man motions with his hand and somebody grabs Q from behind and jerks his face towards the camera that Q has installed. The one that nobody is supposed to be able to see, and only James and Q knows about.

“Perhaps a wave for your boyfriend? We do want him to know you’re in good health, after all.” The man says and steps closer to Q.

“Fuck off.” Q growls.

“Spirited I see, very well.” The man says casually and proceeds to backhand Q. The move comes as such a shock that Q’s eyes widen briefly actually registering the sting. As far as slaps go, it’s a very effective one, Q’s cheek feels like it’s on fire, and his ear is ringing for quite a bit before he can hear properly again.

“Let’s see how long it takes for your boyfriend to find you, shall we?” Q barely notices the needle going into his arm before passing out.

He thinks it’s telling that his last thought before losing consciousness is ‘ _James is going to be pissed._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's a bit cliché that Q is getting kidnapped I apologize. I figured I would delve a little more into the Skyfall plot-line. Familiar characters are coming in.


	5. English bulldog, but not a rat

When Q wakes up again he’s tied to a chair in the middle of what looks like an office building undergoing renovations. There are construction material strewn about everywhere, and what looks to be heavy mechanical tools laying about. Power saws, power drills, power everything.

Q himself is tied down tighly to a chair. His wrists are bound behind his back and his ankles firmly attached to the leg of the chair. He can sense that there are people behind him, but he knows for sure that there’s a man in front of him.

“How nice of you to join us, Geoffrey.” The man is dressed nicely, and could almost maybe pass as a gentleman if it weren’t for the crazed look in his eyes.

“You’re Silva.” Q states, having worked out that piece of information.

“Ah, such a clever boy.” The man, Silva, smirks. Q finds himself highly disturbed.

“I read the Skyfall files.” Q states, and he has, a couple of months back when he was doing a background check on James, he’s read the files and read the background on Silva and how he cornered James and M (the previous one, not the one that Q has come to know from hacking the MI6 lines) and the whole scuffle up in Skyfall that ended in the death of a great lady. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“It seems our James isn’t the only one who’s good at resurrection.” The man says looking proud of himself. “I can see why James likes you, you have…an air about you.”

Silva proceeds to tell Q a story about rats on an island, and Q can’t help but laugh when Silva says that he and James are the only rats left.

“Something funny?” Silva raises an eyebrow.

“I can’t picture Bond as a rat. Sorry.” Q shrugs as best as he can with his hands tied, “A dog, maybe. English bulldog, but not a rat.”

“It does not matter how you see him, my dear boy.” The man says with a laugh that sounds like he’s genuinely amused, “what matters is how things are going to play out from this point on.”

“M is dead, why are you doing this?” Q is trying to buy time now before the inevitable torturing begins.

“Because, my dear boy.” Silva heaves a sigh as if he’s almost sad, “He dares to be happy.”

“I … what?” Q thinks he’s a pretty good reader of other people, but he honestly has no idea what’s going on right now with the man standing in front of him.

“Tell me, dear boy, how is it fair? How is it fair that two men, who were walking essentially the same path have such different outcomes in life? Hm?” Silva’s arms are gesturing wildly now as he’s ranting, and Q presses his back as close to the chair as he can. “How is it fair that he has everything? That he’s happy and whole and in love?” Silva spits out the last word as if it’s a curse, “How is that fair?”

“I… I don’t know.” Q hopes he doesn’t sound as unsure as he feels. He knows all about Silva’s background, all the things that he’s been forced to go through and all the things he’s done after M had given him up. It’s not fair, there’s nothing to say about it. Except Q can’t quite bring him to say that to the man who’s responsible for what’s probably hundreds of lives.

“Ah, you’re scared. You’re trembling.” Silva stops and grins at Q like the lunatic that he is. “Do not worry, my dear boy. Nothing will happen to you until your boyfriend shows up.”

“What happens when he shows up?” Q can’t help but ask. He knows it’s what Silva wants, but there’s no reason that he can see to hold back.

“When he shows up. We’re going to have some fun.” Silve’s grin is so broad that he reminds Q of the Joker in the batman movies, “Well, I will have some fun, it may not be so fun for you.”

“Is that supposed to hurt Bond?” Q manages to pull his face into a sneer. “He’s seen plenty of people being tortured.”

“Yes, of course he has.” Silva laughs, “but this time, there will be a gun in his hands. And when you’re on the verge of breaking, when you’re begging for the sweet release of death, I will allow him to put a bullet in you.”

“You want him to kill me.” Q swallows, he knows exactly how much guilt James carries over the people who have been killed because of him. For him to actually pull the trigger and kill Q would break his mind completely.

“Like I said, such a clever boy.” Silva pats Q on the cheek, like rewarding a dog who’s learned a new trick.

“It’s not going to work.” Q shakes his head and tries to shake off Silva’s hand. “He’s just going to fetch me, and kill you before you can - ”

For the second time that day Q is backhanded so harshly that he’s seeing stars dancing around his vision.

“We shall see whether or not it works, dear boy.” Silva’s voice is tight, “But he’s not yet been able to save anyone from me yet. And nothing indicates that you’ll be any different.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just to kind of clarify on the timeline, in case this chapter was still confusing. The whole thing takes place after Skyfall (when James and Q first meet in this series it's after the events of Skyfall). So Q being kidnapped now, is just under 6 months after Skyfall, I figured that's enough time for Silva to recover from a knife wound in the back.


	6. I would have, if it spared you pain

Q was left along for what felt like hours. He tried to count the minutes in his mind, but stopped after the first 10. From where he’s sitting he can spot two cameras at the corners of the room, and can still feel the people standing behind him, but he can’t see anyone directly and is too drained to try and engage his guards in conversation.

The commotion outside rouses Q, and he’s pretty sure he hears gunshots. Q’s whole body tenses, he knows it’s James and he’s worried.

It wasn’t James. The agents that burst into the room are two regulars at Q’s café, but they have never tried to engage him in conversation and Q has kept his distance, having enough sense to tell they are trained killers, and while Q appreciates their always larger than necessary tips, he was sure that it would not be a good idea to engage with more than one trained killer agents in his lifetime.

Q has always been amused that the two never seem to be in London the same time as James, and has inferred that they must be double-oh agents as well. They always show up to the café together, and banters quietly sitting at the table by the window.

The pair of agents works seamlessly well, while one takes out the guards and disables the cameras, another quickly makes his way to Q and unties him.

“Doing alright?” He asks with a toothy grin.

“It’s Silva, he’s here somewhere.” Q says quickly, “He wants - ”

“It’s alright, we have a team dealing with him.” The other agent, now having secured the parameter, saunters over to Q, “You look rather ungrateful for being just rescued, darling, expecting someone else, were you?”

“I didn’t know you were in town.” Q mutters instead of demanding to know where James Bond is and why he’s not here at this very instance. Of course it’s not as if he keeps tabs on anybody else at MI6 other than James, else he might have known the pair is in London after coming back from a joint mission in Senegal.

“Not your job to know, that’s alright.” The first one, the one with dark curly hair, daftly unties him and helps him stand on his feet.

“You’re lucky we were, of course,” the second agent says. He’s as different from his partner as could be. Where the first agent is lean, sharp and all business-like, he is bulky with muscles and has short, blond hair and an easy grin. “What with everyone else on emergency responses and all, lucky we had a coffee craving as they were carrying you off.”

“Everyone else?” Q doesn’t comprehend for a moment. Doesn’t understand why his boyfriend would be responding to something else when he is the one in danger.

“He would be here if he could, I’m sure.” The first agent smiles wryly at Q before shooting the second agent an annoyed glare, “Don’t fret over it. Queen and country comes first after all.”

“Right, sure.” Q nods and isn’t sure if the agent knows what he thinks he knows. He was about to ask where they are when a huge explosion startles all three of them.

“That is…definitely not a part of the plan.” The blond agent looks out worriedly, and then takes a couple of steps towards the door.

He stops when he hears the distinct sound of someone running over to where they are. Both agents draw their guns silently, and the dark-haired one has enough sense to shove Q onto his knees in order to shield him.

“It’s ok, we’ve got this.” The blond agent murmurs in a voice that Q supposes should be soothing.

“Drop your guns and step away from him.” The voice that floats out from behind a pillar nearly makes Q laugh with relief. He tried to stand but the agent’s hand is firm on his shoulder, keeping him down on his knees.

But it doesn’t matter because James is here.

“007? Is that your doucet tones I hear?” The blond agent’s accent suddenly becomes that much thicker, and it is dripping with aristocracy.

“005.” James steps out from behind the pillar and nods first to the blond agent, then to the dark-haired one. Q is allowed to stand up from where he was kneeling behind the two men.

“001, I hadn’t realized you two were in London.” James spares the dark-haired agent a glance before focusing his gaze on Q, and for a moment the young man thinks he’s forgotten how to breath because the simple act of drawing in air to his lungs suddenly seem impossible.

“The explosion was you then.” The dark-haired agent, 001, rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Must you blow things up wherever you go?”

“Is it not enough for you to ruin 005’s fun? Must you bother me as well?” James’s biting remark has no malice in it, and Q is sure he hears a soft chuckle from 005 to his right.

“Did you see Silva?” 001 asks with narrowed eyes, “Word has it he’s looking to destroy you.”

“I think you’ll find that a lot of people are.” James smirks and walks over to them, “But no, I didn’t see him”

“Well it looks like you’ve got the situation under control then,” 005 says with a grin and puts a hand on 001’s shoulder, “We’re just going to get out of your way.”

James doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move as they walk past him.

“Don’t forget to call containment and write up the report,” 005 says, sounding almost giddy, “This is your case now.”

Q is almost sure he can hear James groan at the mention of reports.

“You’re not hurt.” James gives Q a look of careful assessment, then reaches out and touches Q’s shoulder gently, as if anything more would break the man in front of him.

“No, not really.” Q mumbles, “I heard you were called away.”

“We all got calls.” James sounds annoyed when he said this, “Just about every agent in MI6, emergency responses, potential terrorist cell leaks, bomb threats, all that.”

“To lure you away?” Q raises an eyebrow.

James nods and pulls Q into a brief, loose hug. “We need to leave, get you to a safe house, then I have to track down Silva and kill him.”

“I want to help.” Q says, and he knows that if he’s in a safehouse somewhere he’s going to be surrounded by MI6 personnel, and it’ll be near impossible for him to do anything to aid James.

“No, you’re off this one. I have other agents working with me.” James’s lips purse in disapproval at the mention of Q helping, “I don’t want you involved in this.”

“He kidnapped me, James.” Q’s eyes flare, “He called you my boyfriend, I’m pretty certain I’m already involved, whether you want me to be or not.”

“You’re getting to the safe house.” James says.

As Q is being led out of the building and allowed himself a moment to wonder at both the tone and the movements from James. There’s a decidedly a steel edge to both, and Q tries to think if he can think of another time where James acted like this, but failed to do so. This seems to be a whole new side of James that he’s never seen before.

Of course, this is agent James. Q realizes with start. This is the side that he’s never really had a chance to see because even though he listens to one-sided conversations when James is on missions, he’s never seen the agent in action before.

After several moments of James constantly keep Q shielded from corners and open windows, constantly having a hand on the small of his back, and occasionally muttering into his earpiece, Q starts to understand the hero-complex that a lot of the women undoubtedly develops with James.

“James.” Q says quietly as they start walking down the stairs.

James pauses briefly and turns his head slightly as an indication that he’s paying attention.

“I…I didn’t think you’d come.” Q says quietly, and hastily corrects himself when James gives him a look that screams heartbreak, “I knew you’d come, of course. But they said everyone has been called away and I thought your loyalties were to queen and country first.”

Q kicks himself for sounding like a clingy teenager.

“You are important.” James says, and Q feels his heart flutter despite the completely ridiculousness of the situation.

“Well yes, I figured that much.” Q bites back, and hopes that it makes him seem just a little less sentimental. “He was going to have you kill me. Silva was.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that particular torture technique.” James says as if commenting on the weather, and Q suddenly realizes that he’s dating a trained killer.

It’s not as if he doesn’t know, of course. He’s known what James is capable of, and what James does on a regular basis. But it’s all a bit different when he’s actually involved. For the first time in month Q becomes a little terrified of James, because there’s no doubt that the agent could easily kill him, could easily hurt him, if it came to it.

“I would have, if it spared you pain.” James says softly.

“I don’t know if that’s supposed to make me feel better.” Q says, and then they’re at the bottom of the stairs and about the leave the building and James holds up a hand to indicate that he wants complete silence from Q.

When James opens the door two bodies fall into him, and he sidesteps them quickly. Their legs are caught in the doorway which prevents James from closing the door again, and all of a sudden there are guns pointing at them from just outside the door.

Silva is grinning like a maniac, Q feels James tense.

He looks down and closes his eyes quickly to prevent himself from throwing up. The two bodies lying battered on the ground are the two agents that had saved him previously.

“It’s good to see you again, James.” Silva’s voice is grating, and Q wants to physically flinch away from it. “I must say, they were much less well trained than us. Tsk tsk, they’re just letting anyone hold become a double-oh nowadays.”

“Silva.” James acknowledges the man like a civilized person, like he’s not being held at gun point. Q opens his eyes slowly and keeps them trained on the empty spot just to the right of Silva’s face, he constantly reminds himself to not look down at the bodies at his feet.

“I haven’t killed them, if that’s what’s got your boy’s knickers in a twist.” Silva grins, “They’re badly hurt and probably dying, and to kill them would be mercy.”

Q realizes with sudden horror that Silva is now playing the same game he had told Q. He wants James to kill the two agents who are dying on the floor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slow update. I've apparently written myself into a corner, because I have no ability to write torture or anything slightly close to being graphic. So this is a very feeble attempt at it (this was not my first attempt, but it's the most acceptable. I apologize in advance)
> 
> Of course, due to my absolute inability to write physical descriptions, they are getting out of this situation soon. Hopefully.

Years later Q would still wake up in cold sweats from hearing the gunshots coming from Bond. He could still see the bodies of the agents twitching on the floor in front of him, could still feel himself flinching as it happened.

Silva had laughed, and then sharp pain of a needle being jammed into his neck that may well be the only mercy that Q could have asked for.

When Q woke up he was tied up and blindfolded. He tried moving, but stopped immediately when the bonds got tighter as he squirmed.

“Q.” The voice of James coming from somewhere behind him was a relief.

“James?” He whispered, “Are you alright?”

“Q, there are people looking for us. Don’t panic.” James’s voice sounds extremely matter-of-fact, nothing like the voice that Q is used to.

“You’re using your agent voice again.” Q mumbles, he doesn’t think there’s anyone else in the room, at the very least he can’t hear anybody else.

If James is puzzled by the comment, he doesn’t say anything “Silva set a trap, he would have never ran. The agents were…they were too young and inexperienced to have known.”

“Are they dead?” Q asks before he can stop himself.

“Not relevant.” James dismisses the question quickly, “There are cameras in here, so Silva will probably be here soon. He wants me to be the one to kill you, so he’ll probably start torturing you.”

“I would never ask that of you.” Q replies immediately. He’s thought about it, in the limited time that he has, and has determined that he could not, would not allow himself to add to the amount of guilt that James already feels.

“Q, if it becomes too much - ” James slips out of his agent voice for a second, but seems to catch himself, “there are people coming. Don’t - ”

“How very touching,” Q feels his whole body tense when Silva’s voice filters in, “Shall I grant you two a longer last moment together?”

“No? No witty remarks? No sarcastic comments?” Silva’s laugh is the absolute last thing that Q ever wants to hear again in his life. There are footsteps coming near him, and Q braces himself mentally for what’s about to come.

The kick to his kidney is something he expected, yet it does not stop his scream of pain when it comes.

The pain starts there and doesn’t stop for another 18 minutes. Q knows because he starts counting the seconds to distract himself. During the 18 minutes, not a sound comes from Bond, not a sound comes from anyone in the room except for the noises that Q makes.

When the kicking and stomping and whatever else physical pains stopped, Q let out a weak laugh and a couple of coughs (he can taste blood in his mouth), and says “is that the worst you can do?”

He’d like to think that James would have been proud at just how much condescension he had put into the simple question.

“Patience, little boy.” Silva’s laugh was a cruel reminder that his life is not his own. At least not at the moment.

“I don’t care what you do. I’m never going to ask James to kill me. You can do whatever you want.” Q thought he sounded rather impressive given the list of injuries he’s suffering from currently (bruised ribcage, if not cracked. Probable punctured lung, definitely bruised kidney, minor internal bleeding, various muscle bruising and tear, dislocated left shoulder)

“No, I’ve found a better game.” Silva’s voice had a sharp edge to it, and Q flinched away when his blindfolds were pulled down suddenly.

James was chained to the wall in front of him, suspended off the ground. There was a clear tube feeding into his vain on his left arm. There are tabs stuck on to his chest, which is hooked up to a machine next to him.

“And here is the beauty of our situation.” Silva is squatting down next to Q and stroking his hair as he speaks, and Q really resist the urge to whimper, “The tube is feeding into our dear James something my friend has developed for me. It kills painfully, and rather slowly. Now, that’s rather common you’ll say, rather unimaginative.”

Q has said no such thing, and is planning on saying nothing of the sort.

“But we must link the situation to you, is that not right, dear boy? We must make it interesting.” Silva’s voice sounds nearly giddy at this point, “It’s linked to his heart rate. The faster his heart beats, the faster the poison kills him, and the more painful it is.”

“James knows how to meditate.” Q spits out, he looks at the agent, who has his eyes glued on Q as if it’s the only thing in the world worth looking at.

“Oh yes, I’m sure he does.” Silva laughs and stands up, then stomps Q’s already damaged wrist. “But I’ve assured our dear James that if he looks at anything but you, if he closes his eyes for more than a blink, I can only take that to mean he’s lost interest in you and well…” Silva trails off and kicks Q again, this time Q keeps his eyes open to see James grimace in pain, “I’ll have no choice but to kill you if James should lose interest.”

Q attempts to hold back a grunt when he’s kicked again, and Silva simply laughs.

“Looks like we need to up the ante, mhm? Such a clever boy.” The sound of steel dropping against the floor reaches Q’s ears and he turns his head. There four surgery knives on the floor, in addition to the one that Silva is holding in his hand.


	8. Chapter 8

Q tried to push away the feeling of his shirt being ripped open. He’s been turned over unto his stomach, but Silva’s firm grip on his hair is pulling his head up enough that he can still see James.

“Wouldn’t want you to miss your boyfriend’s last moments.” Silva had whispered in Q’s ear.

“You know, your love has really moved me. Quite touching, really, all this trust and sacrifice and emotions.”

The last word Silva said was along the same tone that one would normally associate with the highest level of disdain. Q bit his lip as the tip of Silva’s finger trailed along his back.

“So I’ve decided, that there should be some mark of love on you when you die, don’t you think?” The drag of the blade against Q’s back came as somewhat of a surprise, although it shouldn’t have. Q whimpered as the first letter was carved out of his flesh, a trail of pain following the blade and lingering in the form of a burning pain.

“O-O-7.” Silva said in a singsong voice as the knife in his hand left Q’s back a bloody mess. “Better than a tattoo, my dear boy, you’ll feel this for much longer.”

In hindsight, Q should have known better to have thought that it was over, and the sprinkled salt on his back really shouldn’t have been a surprise. If it hadn’t been a surprise, he’s sure he could have suppressed the nearly inhuman scream he let out at the pain, and it would have for sure saved James much grief.

But nobody’s perfect, and Q did think the worst was over. So when he screamed, he also felt the rush of guilt that came with as James pulled against his restraints. He can see the agent’s jaw tightening because he’s clenching his teeth hard (although it becomes hard to tell whether from pain or anger or both, because Q’s eyes are overflowing with tears).

The gunshot, however, did end up taking Q by surprise, as did the team of special agents who stormed in nearly simultaneously. The second that the pressure from Silva’s hand was gone, Q was squirming to get to James.

In his effort of crawling blindly and the pain he’s caused himself, Q barely noticed the sting of a needle being jammed into his neck, and thus his sinking into unconsciousness was entirely unexpected.

 

When Q wakes up he spent a minute wishing he hadn’t. He recognizes the medical department of MI6 from the times he’s hacked into their camera systems to keep an eye on things (James). There are tubes around him doing various things, and his back still feels like it’s on fire, but he lets out a soft sigh of relief knowing he should be safe.

He turns his head to see James Bond sitting in the chair next to his bed, asleep.

“Idiot.” Q mutters, and that’s apparently sufficient enough to wake James and alert him.

“You’re awake.” James reaches out and puts his hand over Q’s, “They said you would be awake hours ago, your body heals very slowly.”

“Not all of us can have the healing abilities of a dog, Mr. Bond.” Q says, his voice is hoarse, apparently screaming too much will do that to your vocal cords.

“Well you’ve got nothing that won’t heal with a little time, so there you are.” James says, as if that should satisfy Q as well and he should now be able to leap out of bed any second.

“Duly noted,” Q purses his lips and lets out a rather weak laugh, “so what, we got rescued?”

“Indeed.” James says with a sigh, “001 and 005 were not as badly hurt as they seemed, I’m afraid, and were able to call in to HQ.”

“I thought you killed - ” Q falters, “Well that’s good then. That they called in, I mean.”

“I shot them in a non-vital area, they twitched and bled and slowed their pulses, it’s all in the training manual for double-ohs.” James shrugs, then leans in towards Q. “The cuts on your back might be too deep to heal without scarring.”

“The ones that are burning like a right bugger right now?” Q laughs again, but it comes out as nothing more than a huff of breath, “That’s fine. If I all get out of this are a couple of scars, I think I’ll be ok. Are you alright?”

“Quite.” James nods once nonchalantly, “They were able to flush out the toxin relatively quickly, no harm done.”

“I feel lightheaded.” Q blinks a couple of times as James blurs in front of his eyes, “I think there’s something wrong.”

“Just the painkillers settling in, it’s alright. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

As Q sinks into a comforting darkness, he reminds himself to ask about Silva the next time he wakes up.

 

The next time Q wakes up, true to his words, James was still sitting in the chair next to his bed, reading the papers.

“Anything interesting?” Q reaches out to grab the glass of water next to the bed, and instead knocks it down to the floor due to his inability to lift anything with his arm.

“I would have gotten that for you.” James sighs and picks up the cup. He leaves the room briefly then comes back with a filled cup. When the door opens Q thinks he can hear people walking and talking outside, but once it closes again the room becomes silent.

“Didn’t want to interrupt your paper reading.” Q quips. He feels better, it no longer feels like he’s been run over by a train, only a reasonable sized truck.

“MI6 has been completely uprooted without your café, by the way.” James says as he helps Q into a half sitting position and tips the cup so Q can take small sips. “There are a lot of un-caffeinated, anxious people at work in this building.”

“Is that why I’m here instead of at a public hospital?” Q asks.

“No. You’re here because I want you here.” James says simply. “We have the best doctors.”

“So, not keeping us a secret anymore?”  Q lies back down, but allows James to continue holding his hand. It’s comforting.

“We were never a secret.” James scoffs, “Everyone here knew.”

“I thought we were keeping this quiet.” Q raises an eyebrow, “How did they find out?”

“I told them.” James squeezes Q’s hand softly, as if that’ll keep the young man from getting annoyed, “They need to know what’s off limits.”

“You might have just came in and peed all over me.” Q says, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“If that’s what you want.” James smirks, “I thought my way was rather more sophisticated, and hygienic.”

“Oh shush you.” Q rolls his eyes, but a soft smile stays on his face despite his feeble attempt at hiding his amusement.

“Silva’s dead.” James says after a lull in the conversation, just as Q was about to ask. “The sniper got him.”

“Dead for good?” Q asks softly.

“Dead for good. I put two more bullets through him myself.” James nods, “You’re safe.” He squeezes Q’s hand again for good measure.

“We’re good, right?” Q suddenly gets the feeling that there’s something bothering James, but he can’t quite place it. “James?”

“We’re good.” James presses a chaste kiss to Q’s lips, “I’ll go get a doctor.”

When Q hears the soft click of the door closing again, he can’t help but feel like something in his world has just shifted out of balance.

 


	9. only chance at happiness

Q was kept in MI6 for all of two days before the doctor has declared that he is fit to move back to his own place. He hasn’t sustained any injuries that warrant intensive care or a prolonged stay in a hospital.

The first night he suffers a nightmare in which a masked man attempts to stab him to death. When he wakes, he wakes up screaming and alone in bed.

“What’s wrong?” James is by the bed in an instant, gun drawn, eyes alert. Q draws in two shaky breathes and takes a sip of water under his careful watch.

“Nightmare.” Q mumbles finally, “Where were you?”

“Just outside,” James soothes Q’s hair with a gentle hand, “I’ve got you. It’s ok.”

“Stay in bed?” Q shifts and looks at James expectantly, and of course the agent does not disappoint. Q curls up against James, laying a hand over the man’s chest to feel his heartbeat, steady and strong.

“What were you doing outside?” Q mumbles sleepily as his eyes drift close.

“Just thinking.” James whispers just as Q drifts off again.

 

Q stays at home for 3 more days before opening up the café again. The morning that opens there are people lining up outside the door promptly at 6:30am.

For that entire first week people in the café are tipping significantly more than they have been, or have any right to. At some point in the morning Q received a 1000% tip on two cups of coffee. It was reaching the point of near ridiculousness.

Not that Q was complaining, of course. He mostly thinks it’s the limping and occasional wincing that makes people pity him, and therefore brings in more tips. He briefly considers hiring somebody just for the next couple of weeks, but scraps the idea soon after contemplating it. It would be much easier just to do things by himself.

007 is once again sitting at his usual table, he’s working a pile of paperwork that look like it could be its own small mountain, and every once in a while he looks up and stares at Q, always frowning.

“I think you have been driving away my customers.” Q slips into the chair opposite of James when things slow down after lunch, “What’s wrong?”

“You shouldn’t be working.” James frowns, he throws his pen down onto the table as if it’s the last thing he wants to touch, “I can see when you’re in pain.”

“I’m not in pain,” Q huffs, “It’s fine. Unless you want to help, of course.”

“I am under the employment of her majesty the queen of England.” James snarls, “I do not wait tables.”

“What, are you saying it’s beneath you?” Q’s eyes flash dangerously, “Not worthy of your greatness?”

“That’s not at all what I’m saying, this conversation is over.” James smirks but reaches across the table to take Q’s hand, “I wish I could tie you down on a bed and make you stay there.”

“If that’s what you’re in to.” Q wrinkles his nose, “I suppose bondage is something we could try - ”

“That’s not what I meant, don’t be difficult Q, it doesn’t suit you.” James sighs loudly, but squeezes Q’s hand once gently, “I just want to keep you safe, and healthy.”

“I am safe,” Q laughs, “Aren’t I?”

“Safe as you can be.” James nods once, “I’m trying.”

“I know you are,” Q smiles, “You know it wouldn’t have happened if you were here, so I think - ”

“Yes I know that.” James is snarling once again, like a dog threatened by danger, “I know it wouldn’t happened if I were here. I should have been here, I know that. You don’t think I think about it every day? You don’t think that I - ”

“James,” Q sighs and brings the agent’s hand up to press a kiss against, “Is this one of those guilt things that you have? Because this isn’t your fault and I don’t want you thinking otherwise.”

“I should have been here, Q.” James shakes his head, “Or I should have noticed people watching us, I should have been able to keep you safe.”

“Yes, and you probably should have stopped global warming while you were at it and maybe fixed the economy,” Q pouts and scoffs, “This is not your fault, James. I will not have you moping and glowering and guilt tripping yourself and scaring away my costumers.”

“I can mope and glower and guilt trip myself elsewhere, if that’s what you’d like.” James offers Q a weak smile, “If you’d me not be here.”

“Don’t be daft,” Q swats at James’s arm, “Not like anybody would have you but me.”

“You might be right there.” James laughs a little, “You might be the only chance I have.”

“Might be?” Q raises his eyebrow playfully, “Are you entertaining other options I should know about?”

“You are my only chance at happiness, Q.” James says and pulls his hand away from Q’s, “I don’t want to mess it up.”

“You’re doing a good job of not messing up so far.” Q says, and stands up as two people walk in the café, “Keep up the performance, Mr. Bond.”


	10. I think we should talk

 

The days following their initial conversation about the strange guilt that has settled over James, Q continued to notice strange behavior from his boyfriend.

Nothing too strange that would warrant commenting, of course. Just absent gazes, frowning at nothing, and strange waking hours at night. Q refrained from saying anything, hoping that the behavior is just residual guilt and it would go away on its own.

It didn’t.

Q had resolved himself on a fine Tuesday morning to talk to James that day. He had woken up along in bed (something that happens alarmingly often now), and had seen no sign of the agent for the entire day. He hacked into the MI6 network twice during the day just to make sure he hadn’t missed James being sent away on a mission without him knowing.

Nothing, it appears that James has simply decided to stay away from him.

When, in the late afternoon, James walks into the café, Q decides to stay in the kitchen in the back and ignore the agent. After a couple of minute, James slips soundlessly into the kitchen and stands at the doorway for a while.

“I see you’ve finally decided to grace me with your presence.” Q says, he crosses his arm in front of his chest and frowns at the uncertain look on James’s face.

“Q, I think we should talk.” James says finally, ignoring Q’s comment completely, “Do you have a moment now?”

“Can it wait?” Q suddenly feels the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The scar on his back (that spell out 007 in a rather crude and childish hand) are itching and he resists the urge to scratch.

“I’d rather not.” James exhales as if he he’s been holding his breath. “But if you’re busy…”

“No, let’s do this now.” Q shrugs, he tells himself that the conversation wouldn’t take too long anyway.

“I think by now you know my feels for you already,” James starts, as if reciting a script, “And I’ve been thinking over the last few days. This thing between us, it’s … it’s been rather nice but I - ”

“Yeah, right.” Q nods, he doesn’t really want to hear the actual words that James is going to speak. He’s done his own fair share of thinking, and it has been nice. Q thinks he would give almost anything to stay with James, he could see himself trying, could see himself making efforts to try and alleviate any guilt that James feels. Could see himself giving an inch and then another inch and devoting himself to making the relationship work. He has no doubt that James would try just as hard, would put in just as much as Q. But he can also see it not working, not if both of them are straining so much just to make it work, just to simply overcome James’s ridiculous sense of guilt.

“Q, I don’t know if you really understand where I’m going with this.” James shakes his head briefly, “It’s a big decision, and I don’t want to rush you into anything. You can take your time to think about it and we can have another conversation another time.”

“No, I’ve thought about it.” Q steels his voice so it doesn’t crack, “I agree. You’re right and I agree. I think we should.”

James lets out a almost self-deprecating laugh, “I thought you would need more convincing than this,” he looks almost relieved, “I had a whole speech ready.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Q smiles softly, “I understand the reasoning behind it. It’s a good decision. It’s… I think given our situation, it might be the best decision.”

“I think so too.” James nods, looking at last sure of himself, “I’m very pleased that you agree.”

Then in the next moment he’s pulled something out of his pocket and pushing it into Q’s hands. It takes a moment for Q to register this and actually force his fingers to work and grasp the little box that he’s holding.

“What’s this?” Q asks, frowning. There are no markings outside the box. Trust James Bond to get him a break-up gift, Q muses to himself.

“If you don’t want it, I can take it back.” James says, and he sounds unsure of himself all over again, “Or if you want a different kind, I can always switch it.”

Q opens the box and finds himself staring at a [ring](http://www.tiffany.ca/shopping/Item.aspx?fromGrid=1&sku=GRP01758&mcat=&cid=288177&search_params=s+5-p+7-c+288177-r+-x+-n+6-ri+-ni+0-t+). It’s a simple band, a rather wide platinum ring that has a thin vertical strip.

“What - ” Q opens and closes his mouth, the last time he was so speechless was when he was six and his mother had taken away his laptop as a form of punishment.

“You don’t like it.” James is suddenly reaching for it again, “I’ll get you another one. It’s fine. A lot of people don’t really even wear rings. 001 and 005 have been together for years and neither of them wear rings and its fine.”

“No don’t take it - ” Q pulls back the box and cradles it as if James is trying to snatch it away from him, “You can’t take back a ring once you’ve given it.”

“Right, well then … ” James seems to be at a loss for words, “So you do like it?”

“I …” Q suppresses the grin that’s about to break out on his face, “Did you just ask me to marry you?”   

“Yes.” James’s eyes widen for a second, “You’ve said yes. You can’t change your mind now.”

“No, I’m not - ” Q laughs and suddenly finds that he’s lost all ability to complete sentences with the new rush of joy he’s experiencing, “You’re supposed to kneel and ask and be romantic.”

“I’ve already given you the ring.” James frowns, but gets on one kneel regardless, “You’re going to have to give it back for me to do this properly.”

“Fine,” Q rolls his eyes, and (albeit a little reluctantly) hands James the box back.

“Will you marry me?” James asks, holding the box in his hand.

“Not if that’s all you’re going to say,” Q says indignantly, but holds out his hand for James to put the ring on his finger.

“You didn’t know you were saying yes to my proposal,” James stands and pulls Q into his arms, “What did you think you were saying yes to?”

“I knew exactly what I was saying yes to, you idiot.” Q purses his lips, “I think you’re supposed to kiss me now.”

James proceeds to give Q the best kiss of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here


	11. Epilogue

There are certain things that you never forget, certain habits that you pick up along the way and never seem to quite be able to shake. Q has a couple, James has quite a few. A few weeks after the whole Silva fiasco, James picks up the habit of tracing the scars on Q's back with his fingers when they're in bed together.

The first couple of times, Q tenses and pulls away, he presses kisses to James's shoulder and murmur "you know it's not your fault.". He hugs James a little tighter, and refuses to let go until James pulls his hand away.

Considering what could have happened, it's not the worst thing that Q could have been left with. The scar on his back has faded to faint lines of white against his skin. There are no bumpy stitches or angry red wilts, and Q is grateful for that.

He grows to like the way that James presses kisses to them when they make love (because let's be honest, in tender moments like those it's hard to just call it 'having sex') and he likes the way James traces it absent-mindedly sometimes through his shirt even when they're out.

"You know, it's kind of nice." Q says one day as they're cuddling on the sofa watching an old re-run of Julia Child (because Q thinks he can start to like cooking if it means James gets fed properly), "In a messed up kind of way, I guess, but I think it's nice. Reminds me I'm yours."

"Does it?" James' body tenses up for a brief moment before he tugs Q even closer, so that they are nearly molded together.

"Mhm." Q nods, he doesn't take his eyes off of Ms. Child who is now de-boning a whole chicken like it's nobody's business. "I don't mind it."

James doesn't say anything to that, and they finish watching the show in comfortable silence. If their sex is just a little bit rougher, a little bit more possessive that night, Q doesn't comment on it.

They never quite get married in the traditional sense of the word. Q has never wanted a wedding, and James says it would be too dangerous to have Q listed officially as his spouse.

"I'm sorry." James said with a grimace, "We could have a wedding if you like, but nothing official on record. It's safer that way."

"I don't like weddings." Q shakes his head, but gifts James with a smile, "It's all a formality anyway, I'll keep wearing your ring though, and everybody who needs to know will know."

"Sounds good." James takes Q's hand and smiles and Q knows it's all going to be ok.

At one point they went on what could only be called a double-date with 001 and 005, which was not at all unpleasant except for the moment when 005 catches sight of Q's ring and bursts out into laughter when Q informs him that he and James Bond are married.

001 looked embarrassed enough for the both of them, and James just scowled through the rest of the evening. The next day they get a toaster and a gravy boat.

The day that Q's novel gets published, James takes him out to Nobu again (Q has a deep appreciation for full circles) and they celebrate in style. Q's photo doesn't appear on the book, neither does his bio. There's a short blurb about how the author values his privacy, and Q has signed his contracts specifically so that there's no need for any personal details of his to be associated with the book.

It doesn't sell millions and millions of copies, but it does alright, and stays on the top-seller list for a couple of weeks before being bumped by one of those teenage vampire novels that Q hates with passion. But he's ok with it.

For about a year all anything that people at MI6 received as presents from James Bond was his book. So Q thinks, yeah, he's ok with it not being an immortal work of art, because his boyfriend likes it and threatens people with violence when they say anything but.

Q thinks all in all, his life turned to be quite alright.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to stop and be finished after the last one, but it never seemed quite finished, so I added this thing. I don't know, it's kind of weird and awkward and I think I piled too much information into it, but the story looks more finished now than it did before.
> 
> Also 001 and 005 are shameless based on Arthur and Eames because I adore them and I think they should all live happily ever after together. Note that 1 is A and 5 is E in the alphabet, that was not entirely unintentional.


End file.
